Throught the window the willow flows like a sound in the thin air. Breathless waves of rhythmic winds chatter through quarantined flakes that danced within it. What we breathe is a melody; a dislocated perception of having purpose to do so. Twisting freeze of youth, written with poise; all was left at a note for the piercing temperature of melancholic distrust.
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Infinity
PoetryA dazzling view of words. Multiple perspectives of life and my deepest thoughts and feelings. I write to relieve it all. Thanks for reading! ~Highest rank: #102 in poetry~
